


Meetings Along The Edge

by spoomed (PookyOfBears)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: All the drama (SW-style), Canon Divergent, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, Drama Llamas!, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Friendship/Love, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance, Post-Shadow Of Revan, REALLY slow, Romantic Friendship, Slice of Life (Space Edition), Slow Burn, Space Conflicts, Space Politics, Unresolved Romantic Tension, character exploration, space drama, spamming relationship tags cause
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PookyOfBears/pseuds/spoomed
Summary: As the galaxy treads along the borderlines toward peace, there exist ones who remain ambivalent of its promises. Against the swelling tides are those who come forward to gather at the boundaries, led not by mere civic morality, but by faith of the heart. Through their visions, the bounds are glimpsed and crossed, dissolving at the very places where they meet.(Post-Shadow of Revan continuation, sort of canon-divergent AU; primarily Theron & Lana's POVs with more player and canon character appearances as it progresses)





	1. When Idle Time Gives Rise To Idle Thought

**Author's Note:**

> _Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction inspired by and using characters and elements from Star Wars: The Old Republic, creative property of BioWare._

 

               " _Ow!_ Son of a..."

               Grumbling, the SIS agent ducked his head from beneath his computer console—a mindful impulse regrettably far too delayed, to his chagrin. He rubbed the back of his head as he rose upright to his knees. Turning his eyes between his keyboard and the redundant messages floating across his monitor, he sighed, teeming in irritation while peering over the console. Considering his fair time spent dodging lightsabers and blasterfire, he'd still managed to routinely knock his head on the outer lip of the console nearly every attempt at accessing its interior components below for maintenance.

               "Having fun there, Shan?"

               The distinct goading drawl of this particular SIS coworker failed to pull his attention from his business. Unmistakable as the woman's voice had been, the sarcastic undertow of her banter was not what he needed or wanted at the moment. Not while he was so vexingly preoccupied with this task, and certainly not at this ungodly hour.

               "Dolo, shut up," he half-mindedly murmured to her without turning away from the monitor, a seemingly practiced response as if by rote.

               " _Hey_. I just came here making an energy drink round. You want one or not?" she offered dryly, baring a pure, sardonic spirit quite characteristic of her with an arid expression to match.

               Continuing to run his diagnostics, he tapped along on his keyboard. "Sure."

               "And 'cause of your wonderful jerkish attitude, you're getting one of those not-so-good flavors," she quipped as she fished through her heavy bag full of canned drinks.

               The unceremonious clangs of the metal can bouncing low across the floor rattled Theron's ears enough to make him wince. Gaze drawn over his shoulder, he eyed the can's steady journey as it rolled its way toward his feet before redirecting his unamused look to the woman hovering in the hall just beyond his doorway. The express nonchalance in just about anything she did seldom failed to astound him anymore.

               "Twenty-five feet's just...too much for you to walk, huh?" he commented wryly, gesturing at the literal footfalls between them.

               "Know what? Those old-fashioned milk delivery guys would've just left it at your door," she remarked with a shrug. "I went above and beyond that. Didn’t even ask for tip.” At a single finger's point, she propped back her glasses, brow emphatically arched in a show of droll smartassery as she matched his dull gaze in a one-sided battle of wits. “But that’s okay. You’re a _friend_ , so..." she hummed, circling away from his doorway to move on. "Anyway, got more kapows-in-a-can to pass out. Have fun. Obligatory double-tips next time. Bye."

               Theron continued to stare incredulously at the vacated doorway, lingering curiously between annoyance and amusement long after she'd slipped away from view. Left in the wake of the other agent's typical, unabashed show of antics, he followed with an equally habitual response in kind—a shake of the head and an eye-roll. Ever a handful even on the most benign of days. It'd simply been too late for this old shit.

               Picking the can up from the floor, Theron placed it upright on top of his console. Letting an airy groan percolate to the surface from deep within his bowels, he labored to his feet before plopping backward again into his chair. In a wretched attempt to soak in what trace of leisure there'd been to milk from these late, mind-numbing hours, he reclined as far as the seat allowed, strumming his fingers to an idle rhythm along the armrest.

               _Banal_ was what this type of work was. And banality was one of the things Theron thoroughly disliked. Among the field agents within the SIS, Theron Shan was especially exceptional at his work. He mused over the events of the past brief months—nothing of note in particular. Not since the events of the Revanite uprising in the year’s previous quarter.

               There’d been some comfort to take from the months following their victory on Yavin 4. A tentative truce had been negotiated between the Republic and the Empire—perhaps the most favorable outcome absolutely no one had anticipated. And who could have ever foreseen it to take form into anything tangible to persist this long without incident? Most of the initial clashes and skirmishes scattered along the active lines quickly quelled to nothing as aggressions subsided with the advent of peace and promises—a deed of no inconsequence undertaken by none other than the Grand Master herself, who urged an open dialogue to continue between the two powers beyond the scope of the immediate threat. The Empire, rather faithfully, responded in kind.

               Perhaps, then, as Theron himself had come to learn, the Imperials were not all barbaric warmongers. And with the looming spectre of the forsaken Emperor effectively banished, the spaces that divided their sides now seemed all but simplified. Or imagined, rather—the ways in which they’d been perceived. The unobscured views, the unobstructed vantage points. Like a clear pane of glass. A mirror, even, at certain angles. Like the other, they’d grown wearied and worn from the strains of such lasting warfare. Like the other, they’d come to see the abounding limitlessness, the potentials of collaboration over conspiracy. Though cautious in their strides, this had been the first time in decades of unrelenting violence and bloodshed that both others could meet in between toward an earnest attempt at an armistice.

               As expected, the activities of the SIS had seen a substantial ease during this time. While Theron professedly deplored the mundane days that confined him to the humdrum tedium of monotony within their headquarters on Coruscant, he truthfully could not imagine a more comforting outlook. In an ideal world, there would be no need for operatives like him. In an ideal world, neither would there be a need for the Jedi Order. Even the years of honed skepticism couldn’t keep Theron from entertaining such wishful notions even a few times in his life. Still, he was ever a man of incorrigible pragmatism. Some dreamed such a day could come to pass. He was not one of these precious few.

               Even so, Theron couldn't remember the last time he'd gone this long without being dispatched on yet another field mission.

               _The galaxy never stays quiet for long._

               Drawing in a breath, he peeled his eyes across the room, trying to find the chrono in that particular spot on that one wall. (Boredom, like the existentially questionable self-conversations, could be disorienting sometimes.)

               _Eleven twenty-three..._

               Why he'd ever voluntarily chosen to stay for overtime to run the routine full diagnostic on his system, he lamented he could not retrospectively figure out. A temporary lapse in judgment due to sheer, unadulterated boredom? A sudden onset of some sort of pathological, coma-ridden half-consciousness— _also_ due to boredom? Either of those had to be it. It had been all the more exasperating knowing that he could have easily had any other specialist slicer within HQ undertake the task for him.

               _That's it. Freaking Dolo_ _can do this next time._

He peered at the chrono once again.

               _Eleven twenty-four..._

               Theron sat up and rolled his chair closer to the console keyboard. Propping his elbow against its surface top, he leaned on his open palm, languidly eyeing the screen. It did help that his cranial implants aided in running much of the system's applications without requiring use of the keyboard.

               Letting the current task run on its own, he then drifted his other hand in reach for the canned energy drink. Drawing it close, he popped it open and raised it for a sip. As soon as the liquid’s artificially laden flavors sloshed past his lips, he grimaced at the particularly strange aftertaste he couldn’t quite place. Wondering where in all of Coruscant she could possibly have gotten such a foul thing, he’d been rather unsurprised to see a _very_ foreign language printed on the can across a gaudy logo he would never recognize even in passing under any given circumstance. (Well, perhaps now he would—at least to know what _never_ to drink.) With a distasteful frown, he propped the can elsewhere far from his work space.

               _Huh. What's this, now?_

               Synced with the system applications he’d currently been running, his cybernetic implants suddenly alerted him to something rather unusual they'd picked up on. With its interface projected to him optically, he reviewed what his cybernetics appeared to be detecting. Eyes narrowed in focus, he attempted to make sense of the feedback he was receiving.

               "This isn't right..." he uttered quietly to himself as he shifted upright again, proceeding to quickly type in a string of manual commands and inspect the strange irregularity he'd found. Being the adept slicer that he was, it didn't take long for Theron to identify the cause of this strange activity.

               _Another slicer, huh? Ballsy trying to pull something on SIS headquarters..._

               Quickly undertaking maneuvers to outwit the intruder, he deftly traced and followed their path. In due time, it'd been clear that the intruder realized he was trailing them as their pattern of movements grew increasingly hasty and erratic.

               "Asshole...you're not losing me that easily," he murmured in response as he continued to decipher his screen.

               As his fingers continued to fly across his keys, he inwardly noted in passing how impressive it’d been that this slicer had managed to slip into the headquarters' network unnoticed so far. In fact, there was quite a plausible chance that this activity would have remained undiscovered had he not been presently in the middle of such a thorough system sweep to begin with.

               An unconscious little smile tugged at the corners of his lips as the unblinking focus of his dilated eyes seamlessly drifted between the retinal projections of his implants and the screen in front of him. It’d been months since he’d been caught in the rush of any sort of pursuit, mental or physical. Now tested, he'd soon see if the underuse of his skills in all that time would prove any detriment to his consummate mastery of them.

               Over the following seconds of the chase, it’d come to note peculiarly that there had been no major disturbances he could discern from the intruder yet, baffling him as to what they had intended to accomplish. No slicer would breach the SIS network in order to do _nothing_.

               Making short work of the task, Theron successfully traced and locked the intruder out. With a self-assured snicker, he dropped back into his chair, staring victoriously at the blinking blue cursor on his screen. His enthusiasm had been only fleeting once the abrupt commotion settled down with the steadying pace of his heart rate, and he snapped back upright in his seat, promptly remembering to further assess the security breach.

               _Still_...no obvious trace of malicious activity to be found on any of his readings. The blinking cursor in the middle of his screen remained unchanged. They hadn’t even attempted to log out of the network.

               Brows furrowing, his fingers tentatively drifted over his console before keying in some commands to open an audio relay.

               "Hey, listen! Whoever you are—you know I've got you," he began speaking through the open channel. "You understand that you're attempting to slice into the Republic SIS main—"

               "—Well, hello to you too, Theron."

               The unmistakable voice stilled him down his spine to the core. His expression paled upon his dawning, bewildering consternation, shaded by just the barest tinge of uncertainty of what this entirely accidental encounter could possibly mean.

               ‘ _Accidental’…? Not likely. Not when it comes to_ her _._

               "...Lana?"

               "Agent Shan," she greeted him with all the assuring candor absent from his own composure that very moment. Even through the simple audio link, the warmth of sincerity carried by her voice was as plain and tactile as the keys beneath his fingers and the screen before his eyes. Certain details about Lana Beniko would never change, it would seem.

               The moment left Theron at an impasse. What could Sith Intelligence possibly intend by slicing into any Republic network other than surveillance and subterfuge? And _Lana_ , of all people. Now the new minister at the head of it all, if their intel was correct. His jaw tensed at the thought of this as he once more peered through the data his cybernetics could detect. Again, he found that all activities had indeed halted on her end.

               In a lowered voice, he spoke rather gravely through the channel, "Lana, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

               "I thought it was quite apparent—slicing into the SIS network. Or... _attempting_ to."

               By the sound of her benign voice, he almost wondered if she'd even realized the enormity of what she'd been caught doing.

               "That's it? That's all you've got to say?" he asked her dryly, sharing in absolutely none of her seeming amusement, however modest it’d been. "You understand how serious this is? I've just caught slicing activities attempted by Sith Intelligence—"

               "—And _thwarted_ quite ably, Agent Shan," she cleverly reminded him, an impression of some regard for his own impeccable countermeasures.

               The silence thickened between their relays. Theron found himself quite at a loss, uncertain between her apparent pleasantry and his own ambivalence.

               Sensing the slight unease weighing through the quietness, she’d been the one to break it. "I was curious...how far I could get before you caught me," she revealed a bit haltingly.

               Unsure of what to make of this, Theron remained slightly wary as he questioned her again, his voice no longer shaded by any guarded hostility, shifting instead to some measure of concern. "Lana, what exactly is this about?"

               Her familiar subtle laugh gently sounded through his speaker, marking her delighted entertainment of his seemingly perpetual paranoia of her. She mused over how he may never quite grow out of this mindset, though in full knowing that she herself was entirely to blame for it. Even so, she supposed that it was only a mark of his own ability and diligence as a Republic agent to respond in such a manner.

               "I wanted to see how well I've learned," she nonchalantly answered, "and what better way than to put myself up against the very one who taught me? It is what the Sith do. However, as it would seem, I appear to have failed in my apprenticeship in this instance."

               Theron could only picture the modest little smile she must have worn as she spoke then. He was quite incredulous at her answer. As reckless as it all was, he couldn't help but find some levity in her daring antics. This was a very rare light-heartedness uncommonly displayed by Lana Beniko, but he'd witnessed this side of this particular Sith enough during their brief time together to know she was more than capable of doing something like this. Mischief was most certainly not beyond her.

               He poured a sigh in resignation. "Listen. Lana, you can't be doing this. You know that."

               Another pause followed as she considered his words. His tone. She knew the sound of anger in his voice, and there was none of it as she listened to him now. Neither, however, did he appear to share in her harmless and well-intended amusement. She now feared that she may well have overstepped the finely drawn boundary yet again.

               "It was the only way I could think of to contact you," she admitted in earnest. Her voice lowered as she continued, waning in its former mirth, "A way of doing so and remaining inconspicuous, that is. I apologize if I've caused you any undue concern. I suppose it was rather imprudent of me." She offered her polite apology as she inwardly berated herself for her poor judgment.

               "Just...some excuse to contact me, huh?" he echoed, his reservations melting away by the layers as he searched for comprehension in her words. He mused over the lengths of what exactly she'd done. What she made seem like an innocuous little trifle was, in truth, quite foolhardy and halfway harebrained as far as mischief went. Though he couldn’t deny the least bit of pride in that she'd managed to put the skills picked up during her time working with him to some decent use all on her own. (Yes, it’d seemed he truly _had_ created a monster.)

               No longer able to suppress the barest breath of a laugh, he then finally relented. He'd known she was a closet mischief-maker, but he never quite pegged her to be this whimsical about it. "Lana, I..." he halted in a sigh of laughter, "you know, you can just... _call_."

               "Why, _certainly_ , it's simple enough to suggest," she commented, a spark of humor returning to her voice. Of course she had already considered this, deeming it to be far too insecure given the considerable expanse between them. "How do you suppose we should? Without putting our correspondences at risk of being discovered?"

               "You say that like as though we were getting involved in some sort of espionage." The first sound of voluntary banter to come from him that entire evening, earning him quite a gracious swell of laughter from his present company.

               "Are we not? An SIS agent and Sith Intelligence—making regular contact across the galaxy in order to inquire on one another. Sounds rather... _dubious_ , doesn't it?"

               In hindsight, among all the peril and hazards they faced during the Revanite uprising, Theron realized he seldom had any opportunity to reflect in any meaningful way the honest nature of their respective companionships beyond their working alliance. Even fewer were opportunities between any of them for real, sociable conversation. In fact, much of it had consisted of long-winded and rather one-sided exchanges with Jakarro's loquacious droid. With the absence of a mission objective to maintain, he realized how pleasant it actually was to speak on such genial terms with someone like Lana.

               He gave a humored smile, reclining back into his chair. "We're both intelligence agents. We'll figure a way around it."

               Responding with a gentle laugh, she then at last gave her proper greeting. "How have you been, Theron?" The question she'd meant to ask since conceiving this entire intercourse.

               Theron leaned forward over his console, crossing his arms along its edge as he smiled to himself. "Just fine. How about you?"

               "Quite well myself. Though it has been rather lackluster. I couldn't put my finger on why that was for some time. But now, I feel I have a good idea of what may be lacking."

               He quirked a brow at this comment, curiously envisioning what expression could possibly be gracing her features that very moment. "That your way of saying you miss me?" he quipped.

               " _Oh_..." she mused in a pitched drawl at this unforgettable brand of sarcasm. "I see with your new promotion, a slightly inflated sense of self-importance was bound to follow."

               Giving a snort of a laugh, he countered with his own tease, "Yeah. And you're the deluded one who thought she could slice into the Republic's central intelligence network by herself. Just for an excuse to talk to some guy."

               "In all honesty, I had no expectation to successfully slice through. In fact, I was laying a wager that 'some guy' would notice and intercept me. Otherwise, we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we, Agent Shan?"

               While many of his colleagues and superiors would address him as such, the unfamiliar ring of it coming from Lana struck him as odd. Its rigid, foreign sound made him grimace. "' _Agent Shan_ '...? So formal all of a sudden?"

               "Well, now that our alliance has officially been dissolved, I don't suppose it would do to continue on with such casual familiarities," she suggested with some manner of remote deference.

               One such as Theron couldn't care less about these things. He suspected that she, of all people, would have known this, but he also knew that it _was_ Lana Beniko in question after all, whose sincere graces never seemed to switch off, regardless of the circumstances. She was a Sith Lord who would kill you if you so happened to find yourself standing as her enemy, and still do so without displacing a single drop of utmost courtesy.

               "But it's totally okay to still fraternize," he remarked. Though veiled beneath the humor of his sarcasm, he’d meant to point out the obvious contradiction. "So I can't call you 'Lana' anymore? Is it...' _Lord Beniko_ ' now?"

               It’d been Lana who grew quiet this time. The moment lingered as her mind grew heavy by the wayward passing peripheral thoughts, only for her to realize that she'd spent her allotted time.

               "Theron?" she addressed him once more. There was something different in the manner she spoke his name. Something nuanced. Some perceivable sentimentality in the way she said it this time. It had always been about the finer details when it came to Lana Beniko.

               "...Yeah?" he answered tentatively, sensing the finality in her tone.

               "We should talk again soon." A whisper of reluctance seemed to weave through this simple statement as it sounded through Theron's speakers. A premature end to a conversation with a friend was not what Lana desired, so she meant to hold him to this like a promise.

               Hearing this paled his countenance a bit, but he gave a nod of understanding. "Yeah, okay."

               An indicator on his console screen flickered briefly before a visual feed opened. He turned to peer at an adjacent monitor, smiling as he saw the face illuminated on the screen before him.

               Her own warm expression mirrored his, gleaming as she, too, finally caught a glimpse of his face, glad to see that he appeared well as he claimed. Since she'd been the one to draw their call to a close, she intended to at least offer a somewhat proper goodbye. "Be well to yourself."

               The departing phrase was familiar—echoed from when they’d previously parted ways on Yavin 4.

               "And you stay out of trouble," he recalled, the very same response from then as well.

               As though hearing some sort of inside joke hidden within an esoteric goodbye, she nodded in fondness and quiet laughter. Her welcoming gaze remained until she severed the relay from her channel's link. Theron's screen once again grew blank. The blinking blue cursor disappeared.

               He sat back into his chair, letting the recollection of those days swarm his memory in a drift of pensive musing. Nearly three months of relative, luxurious calm, and even Theron realized he hadn't given a lingering second thought toward her until now. Strange, the things one considered when idle time gave rise to idle thought.

               Evidently, he realized, the course of Lana's thoughts, too, had led her to him at some point. Why in all the galaxy would she have ever been prompted to reach out to him like so? Nearly three months, and even Sith Intelligence had little better to do with their time, it’d seemed. It was uncanny moments like these that often drew an instinctual solicitude within him. In no time of recent remembrance had the galaxy seen any enduring calm. For once, Theron invested some hope that perhaps his instincts, so well adapted to the turbulence of disquietude, would prove wrong.

               With a sigh and some renewed morale, he reestablished the sync between his cybernetics and his system console. He endeavored to be done with his initial task once and for all and return home for some precious, well-desired sleep.

 

* * *

 

               Lana's fingers rested over the switch that ended the transmission of her relay to SIS’s systems. She was seated back against her chair, its rests laden with the languid weight of her arms. Her unfocused eyes gazed downward toward her console where her fingers remained. The contented smile she wore lingered as she slowly drew her hand from the switch, letting it come to idle loosely along her lips—a habitual pensive gesture of hers.

               Unstirred during the private seconds of this quiet moment, it’d been the gentle beeping of her personal comlink that at last drew her gaze to attention. Lana turned her eyes to the other end of her console where the small blinking device laid. Uncrossing her legs, she bent over to reach for it. Her eyes lit as she read across its tiny screen from whom the incoming call was arriving.

As she'd been finished for the day, Lana rose from her chair and proceeded to leave her office. Bringing the receiver to her ear, she answered the comm. "Of all times for you to call your darling girl, you do so at _this_ hour, Master Gedeon?" she spoke, beaming with a full smile as she greeted her caller.

               Nearing her door, she reached for the switches to shut off the lights in her office. "No, I'm just leaving now," she responded as she stepped out into the hallway, the automated door sliding shut behind her. With a tap of her key card against the door's terminal, its indicator light blinked to red as it locked the room shut.

               "I apologize for missing your previous call. I was...catching up with an old friend," she continued, fondly considering the most fitting manner of excusing herself. Turning from her office door, Lana then proceeded on down through the corridor, homebound at last in the late evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I want to start by greeting any readers who stumble onto this fic! ^_^ Thanks a lot for taking the time to read. I’m guessing some of you guys might be readers who have been following along some of my other posts, but I also hope there are some new folks too! (Meh…I figure by now and from this point on, it seems like the fandom is kind of thinning out a little, lol.)
> 
> What am I doing trying to post new stuff when I’ve been super quiet with the other storieeees?? I’ve actually had this thing plotted out in notes and all sorts of fragments and bits for yeeears now. Like…even before the other stories were posted and way in the beginning of me ever discovering The Old Republic. Like…when the Forged Alliances arc had just come out, lol. So most of this story was planned before a lot of actual canon backstory and plot was finally established in the game. It’s kind of why I almost want to call this somewhat of an AU…canon-divergent for sure. If it was a bit unclear, I’d say the story disregards all the canon after the Shadow of Revan arc and assumes that the Emperor was never successfully resurrected. (Sorry, Fallen Empire/Eternal Throne stuff…none of that’s going to be a part of this fic.)
> 
> I wanted to share a little bit about some of the background around this fic idea. This had been something I’ve been building on since I’d started following the game. It’s not just a fic to satisfy my weird obsession over shipping the crap out of Theron and Lana (lol), but I also kind of always wanted to write some large, probably way too ambitious story about these two factions eventually dealing with everything beyond the war and fighting. I mean the game seems to be a giant never-ending war—which I get it, I mean, how else would it continue as a playable game and all. But…I dunno…some of it is just so bleak, it depresses me, haha.
> 
> Unlike some of the other fics I’ve posted, there’s definitely a lot less i-don’t-know-where-im-going-with-this as far as the plot and ideas go, haha…but it’s really just buckling down and writing it all out from all the notes I’ve had forever. I guess I was always really unsure about its completion, and it’s a little bit of a special personal project for me. I don’t know… But recently, I really thought about it a lot more, and I started feeling kind of stupid about sitting on it for so long. I realized it’s never going to feel ‘complete,’ so I thought…what the hell, I’m just going to write stuff. Otherwise, I just don’t think I’m ever going to get anything out. Hell, I’m not even sure there will be a decently thriving fandom left by the time this story gets anywhere anymore, lol.
> 
> But that said, this doesn’t mean I’ve put any other project on hiatus. I know I’ve been ridiculously slow on all the updates, and even this one might end up the same way. But I’m stubborn! And I haven’t abandoned anything, lol. I promise! All of these stories are constantly on the back of my mind, and I don’t think I’d feel satisfied with letting them stay unfinished forever. I know it’s not terribly reassuring, but I’ll chip away at each of the fics bit by bit eventually. ^_^; 
> 
> Anyway, thank you guys so much for reading and following along. I feel like I’m constantly apologizing, and I really, really appreciate all the friends who have continued to watch and wait for any updates and for offering kind and encouraging words (or even occasionally just jab at me to make sure I haven’t just died entirely, haha.) I really hope that those of you who decide to follow along this one will enjoy it too. Of all the stories I’d ever tried to play around with, this might be the one that’s closest to my heart as far as the content and core of it goes. I really hope I can convey all the best of these ideas in a way that you guys can find some enjoyment in reading. :) Thanks a lot, and please sub and feel free to leave comments and kudos! :D


	2. UNITY

               _96%...97%..._

               Lana watched as the bar on the small screen of her personal comlink progressed, as though following to the backdrop of her own steady rhythm of footsteps bringing her down the quiet street to her destination. She paused to glance up from the device only briefly as she spotted the corner ahead in her peripheral.

               _99%...100%_

               She smiled, swiping a key to finalize the encryption of her message and another to send it. After tucking away the comlink back into her coat pocket, she hastened her fumbling gait back in step with its natural pace. 

               Coming up on her left was the entrance to the winding promenade within an open recreational park space that led to one of the city's main squares. As she neared the familiar wrought iron arches, she spotted the distant silhouette of her awaiting guest, idling quietly with reminiscent eyes gazing across the splendor of the urban heights surrounding this small arboreal pocket. Even beyond the towering metropolitan edifices, the uncommon blue skies stretched its expanses overhead, almost completely unblemished in every direction toward its horizon. It had been an unusually clear day.

               "Master Gedeon," Lana beamed from where she approached, catching the old man's immediate attention. "You've been in Kaas City all this time and have only now called me to see you?" she teased, her delighted smile accompanied by a most affectionate breath of laughter.

               "Lana, my dear." The familiar brogue of his voice was a pleasure to hear in person after so long. "Come. Let me have a look at you," he sang, urging her over with a gentle gesture.

               With arms open, she glided across the cobbled pavement, catching the old man in a loving embrace. Her master's hands lay rested on her shoulders as they drew apart. Looking her over, he cupped her face as though greeting the small girl she'd long outgrown. He'd even worn the same unchanged smile, warmed by the seemingly perpetual glow of inner pride reserved only ever just for her. She'd never quite outgrow this vision he'd held of that small girl, it would seem.

               "You look wonderful."

               "As do you, it would appear," she responded with a teeming swell in her voice.

               Old Master Gedeon looked to be quite unchanged as ever, almost as a rule. As Lana always came to expect. Unlike many Sith Masters, he'd never shown any preference for the usual heavy robes or cloaks characteristic of the lords, though he had always been partial to black. Always—a black, collared shirt beneath a black jacket or tunic of some sort, coupled with a pair of matching black trousers, all finely tailored to his thin physique. 

               Sometimes even—a polished cane of darkened mahogany to top off his ensemble. A choice of fashion rather than function, she always supposed. She'd never recalled a time in any number of years when her master ever required the use of an aid to walk about. His hair still remained a peppered grey in wiry locks kept just above the shoulders, just as she always remembered of him. A curious thing it'd been, however—he had always appeared old in her mind, though he never seemed to age in any memory she held of the man.

               Perhaps it had simply been the strange distortions the mind projected at times onto the fondest memories. How that big dog one remembered as a child had _always_ been big. Or how that gnarled tree on the schoolyard had _always_ been particularly frightening. Having passed the entirety of her childhood in his care, she would still sometimes find herself boggled even to this day, that at her full height, she stood only some inches short of his own. She'd always been his little child, after all. Some things were too easy to forget amidst the lengthening passages of time between their reunions. However, thin and aged as he appeared, one would be prudent to bear in mind that Master Gedeon was deceptively neither frail nor fragile. This, too, Lana's memory would always recall of her master.

               Before continuing with any of his habitual words of affectionate praise, the old man appeared to halt himself just as his lips parted. With a single raised finger, he proceeded to rummage beneath the flap of his shoulder bag. From it, he pulled out a large, flat item—a bound book, it appeared. Old and antiquated. Practically worn at its spine and edges even. The perfect souvenir only his peculiar little girl would love.

               "Another one?" Lana's eyes beamed as they perused the faded embossed letters across the cover. As she accepted the book, she began flipping curiously through its pages, all fraying at the edges. Images upon images. All photos, it appeared—some even printed across the full expanses of some pages. Some small captions in between. Brief passages of text here and there. The images captured seemed to encompass just about any subject matter to be found in all the universe, from the smallest worldly objects to the full panoramic views of the grandest celestial bodies in space.

               "A traveler's photo journal, I believe. You know, the usual kind of thing the Chiss don't have room for in their archives anymore," he shrugged. "This one had lots of nice pictures—thought you'd like it."

               Lana glanced up from the book. "You visited Csilla again? Where ever do you find the time to journey all the way out there as often as you do…?" she murmured aloud as she continued to peruse through the pages. "And for their archivists to allow you to rummage through their collections for anything expendable like a vagrant…"

               "I'm still quite the respectable Sith Lord, not some old space junk hoarder," he retorted as though he'd been truly offended. With a laugh, he shook his head at the jest. "Well, I hardly do anymore. I just give them a ping every now and then if they're looking to clear out their collections some. And what with all the recent years' debacle with the Pubs...they've been clearing out a lot of the 'useless' ones to make room for new archives."

               Lana's lips curled with a knowing little smile. "You mean the ones I _like_?"

               "Ah, well...it's the downside to having physical archives, isn't it? You'd think after so long, they'd have come up with the technology to preserve digital files even in a place that cold by now."

               "Well, there's a reason the Chiss are so reliable at safeguarding all the contents kept in their libraries," Lana mused as she shut the book. "You can't slice into a book," she quipped, tapping its hard cover before stowing it away in her own belongings. "Thank you, Master Gedeon."

               "Going right in with the rest of your little collection?"

               She'd still been fumbling her hands with the closures of her bag as she answered. "Yes. On the shelves in my room."

               "Your _'room'..._ " Her master's expression furrowed as the cynical thought dawned on him. "You're still living in that same apartment?"

               "Of course," Lana replied, straightening herself back up. She shook a tousled lock of hair away from her face as she slung her bag back over her shoulder. She recognized the beginnings of this same old conversation by his wry tone alone and narrowed her eyes dubiously at the old man. " _Why_? What's wrong with it?"

               "What? Nothing. You've just...lived in that same place for so long now," he shrugged, trying to seem as benign as he could manage. "Given your steady promotions, I just...can't imagine why you wouldn't relocate to one of those luxury towers or some other…"

               Lana flashed a sardonic smile, the typical response of the rebellious child still quite alive within her. "I like my apartment, thank you, Master Gedeon." With a dismissive flourish, she turned from him and began at a sauntering pace down the path of the promenade. "I'm not going anywhere. Unless they mean to drag me out of the home I've known my entire life," she declared with the all-too-familiar dogged dramatics her unfortunate master had known since her youngest days. "I'll start a revolution to stay if I have to."

               The old man very nearly rolled his eyes. There'd never been any fruitful gain to be had from him beating at this long-dead tauntaun. Still, a stubborn old man had to at least _try_.

               "So...I take it you're also still using the drawing room—"

               "—You mean my _bedroom_."

               _Yes_ , this old conversation again.

               "You had a proper bedroom that you _never_ used—"

               "—It was _tiny_ ," she ached with the thorough exasperation reminiscent of her two-decades-younger self. "And it seems absurd for me to have to leave my own supposed bedroom every time I wanted to fetch any of my own belongings from literally the next door over."

               "Well, _okay_..." Her master threw his hands up in a shrug, though he'd been far from letting down just yet. Perhaps he'd hoped (in vain) to wear her down more and more each time the matter was brought up, but the girl seemed to grow incessantly just as tenacious about it through the years. "I haven't lived there for nearly a decade now, dearie. There's a perfectly useable master bedroom vacant for—"

               "—I'm not taking your room, Master Gedeon."

               "Dearie, I'm at the Academy full-time now. _Have_ been. I don't know what you're still keeping that room sterilized and sealed off for..." he continued to prod, which only earned him a melodramatic roll of the eyes out of the damned girl.

               "It isn't as though I keep the door barred and locked..." she mumbled in exacerbation. As though the very notion were even remotely sound enough to undo his entire reasoning altogether. The nature of such exchanges between them seemed entirely unchanged since her most recalcitrant teenaged years.

               "You mean to designate an entire _quarantine_ room—?"

               "—And I clean it _routinely_. If you must know."

               Master Gedeon halted his steps with a humored tap of his cane against the cobbled stone beneath it. "Of _what_?" he nearly laughed, "An entire offending _speck_ of dust?"

               While his amused gaze matched Lana's bleak regard, he could see through her false exterior with almost complete transparency. The sheer _will_ she exerted to rein even the barest glimmer of a smile at his gentle teasing. The girl's tenacity had always been a point of pride even this old man could covet.

               " _Maybe_ two?"

               Lana pursed her lips and turned away, falling back into her strolling pace. _Ah_ , the first signs of capitulation.

               "You know what? You should get a pet, dearie."

               " _What_ —"

               "—I'm dead serious. I think it's unhealthy for a young lady like yourself to grow into such a recluse."

               Her mouth hung agape, speechless in her incredulousness. But just as swiftly, her narrowing eyes gained an edge upon the quick-witted recollections playing back from the recesses of her memory.

               "I wanted a pet when I was five. _You_ wouldn't let me."

               "Well, yes..." her master murmured in acknowledgement, "but you were five and could hardly remember to brush your own teeth every night. It's been more than two decades since, and I would hope you can now be safely entrusted with the care of another living organism with _some_ degree of competence..."

               Yes, the old man's ironclad sensibilities would never appear even remotely deterred by his years and often earned him a quick final word to curb the girl's seemingly pathological wit. (After all, she had to have inherited the skill from _somewhere_.)

               "...Perhaps you ought to start with a plant, then," he suggested after some consideration.

               Lana's lips thinned with the persistence of her lingering unamusement. " _In any case_ —"

               And d _eflection_ —the second signs of capitulation.

               "—I can't use that room. It's the guest room."

               Master Gedeon's skepticism had been all but imprinted in bold across his furrowed expression. "So what does that make the _other_ neglected bedroom?"

               "...The _second_ guest room."

               "...Because you have so many visitors to entertain, thereby requiring your constant attention, as well as all of the courtesies available that your household could possibly offer to accommodate?"

               Like an arrowhead through its bull's-eye, his point of rather well-reasoned sarcasm had completely torpedoed through any half-brained logic she could have conceived. So...

               "Yes. For those reasons exactly."

               Logic be damned.

               "Oy... All right. I give up," the old man resigned at last.

               "Will you, really? I mean it, Master Gedeon. I like my room. I like where I live. Would you stop badgering me about this now?"

               "Yes—all right, all right. We'll put the poor dead tauntaun to rest now," he waved off, continuing on ahead as he paced passed her.

               However minor his passive-aggressive display of defeat had been, it'd served as enough fodder to feed Lana's thorough self-satisfaction. She smiled to herself as she watched her master head over to a bench beneath a nearby tree. Shadowing his path by some steps behind, she followed to take a seat beside him.

               Amidst the peaceful beat of silence between the old master and his dear pupil, they'd taken a moment to admire the unobstructed view before them. It'd been uncanny how quiet this corner of the city had been, even with such uncommonly fair weather to grace this world. Not even a single other wayfaring pedestrian in sight.

               This stillness was not at all something Lana found unwelcoming to the senses at the moment. With the rare tendrils of sunbeams peering through the open patches of sky, she could even distinguish the subtle tints of color between the drab, urban greys of the otherwise monotonous cityscape. As though an entirely new dimension of the surrounding world had suddenly revealed itself. And all it'd taken was a slightly adjusted manner of view.

               In light of their joint moment of peace, Lana's wandering thoughts then prompted her to ease into the silence to inquire of her master's well-being. "How have things been on Korriban? The Academy?"

               "Hah. Same as ever. Nothing really changes," he laughed. "Young and brash new recruits. Older and _still_ brash acolytes. The entire lot causing all sorts of mischief and grief for each other," he shook his head with a humored sense of exasperation.

               "The very same, is it?" she mused with a grin.

               "I don't care what you say—I'm thankful you never truly had to go through any of that."

               "You don't think it would have made me a better Sith?" Lana's impish smile masked a certain glimmer of daring. This was a conversation she had with her master many times before. It'd become something of a jest and tease by now.

               Master Gedeon steered his gaze, mirroring her clever facade. "It would have made you just like the rest. So, _no_."

               Always, what unabashed praise. Coming from this crochety old man, Lana could only beam at the predictability of his seemingly tireless, paternal affections.

               "I don't know if you've heard," she began, "they've appointed two new council members not too long ago."

               "Yes, yes...right, I have," he answered, adding a droll nod of the head, " _finally_." In truth, he knew little of the appointments or of who the candidates had been, even though it had all taken place nearly a month prior. "You'd be surprised how slowly news actually reaches Korriban," he mused with a small laugh. "If it isn't directly relevant to the acolytes, it isn't necessarily taken as compelling news. They have enough to worry about just surviving. There's no world beyond the walls of the Academy until they've left it."

               "You make it sound so bleak."

               "You still wished you'd gone through that now? Need I remind you—you did have a _taste_ of it."

               Lana laughed. As stubborn as she'd been as a child about the matter, she'd known well that nothing substituted the personal tutelage she'd been privileged to have under Master Gedeon.

               "So? Tell me a little about our honorable new councilors," he urged her curiously with a touch of humor.

               "There's Darth Arkous's vacant seat—" Lana began.

               Immediately, Gedeon gave a derisive scoff at the mention of the dead fool's name.

               She turned to her master, brows perked in amusement. Lana knew just how deep his contempt toward the former councilor ran. For all the trouble and danger Arkous's conspiracy had put her through, Gedeon would have just as well sought out and slain the bastard himself had she and her allies not gotten to him first.

               "—Now filled by Darth Rubia," she finished her thought.

               Gedeon's distasteful look did not subside. "Isabeau Rubias herself, huh? Wouldn't imagine they'd ever appoint that stuffy lass to a seat on the council," he mused, "and to Head of Military Offense, no less. She wasn't a student of mine, but I remember her days as an acolyte. A bit of a puritanical streak even then," he recalled of her dryly. When the unpleasant thought occurred to him, Gedeon shot an alarmed glance to Lana. "You're not stuck working underneath her, are you, my girl?"

               She laughed aloud. "No—I answer to no one other than the will of the Dark Council itself now, Master Gedeon," she announced with pretended flair.

               "Ah. That's right. Head of Intelligence—what a promotion," he delighted. "Otherwise, I'd think they'd appoint _you_ to take that fool Arkous's seat! You were ten times better at the job than he ever was, and you know it."

               "Master Gedeon..."

               Again, the shameless praise. Even though she knew he'd said so half in jest, his dear girl couldn't help but flush just a bit.

               "Why else would he have nabbed you for himself? His _own_ advisor! You had talent, and even his fool eyes could see it. He never would have been appointed to the Dark Council in the first place if it weren't for you helping him along."

               With comments such as these, she often couldn't discern how much of it had been in humor and how much had been in earnest. Still, she shook her head with a modest smile, dismissing it for his usual teasing.

               "Now who's the other one?"

               "Darth Neronis. The new Head of Military Strategy," she mentioned rather formally.

               Hearing this dulled her master's exuberant curiosity somewhat. He grew sedate over this piece of news. "So...he's inherited your Da's old seat, has he?"

               Lana had never thought to associate the new Dark Councilor with any memory of her father, not that there had been much to hold to. By her master's very mention of this, the paling sense of unease now all but smothered her sparkling mirth. Only at her moment's awareness of the dampening melancholy looming had she spoken again. Anything to redirect this conversation.

               "Do you know much about him?"

               "Neronis?" Gedeon seemed to linger on the thought. "Before his titles...he once went by the name of 'Dresden' when he was a much younger man," he paused, turning his eyes back to Lana, "no older than you. I believe...'Nerus' was his given name at birth—'Nerus Dresden,'" he continued to recall. "Outside of that, I don't know much more about the man."

               Lana considered for a moment what she recalled of Darth Neronis from the brief instances she'd seen him. "He seems a rather level man. A favorable trait for a tactician. It seems...less commonly observed among our Sith Lords these days," she commented with a sense of tedium. It worried her, how the incendiary tendencies of the most influential of Sith Lords have too often become so detrimental to their advancement. With only the best thoughts in mind, she hoped dearly that that would soon change. It was the only way she could see to make this peace last.

               She let her eyes wander again across the sights of the city before her from where they'd been seated. How she loved being at home. As dreary as some days could become in Dromund Kaas's lone city, she'd particularly loved days like these most. While the atmosphere never did see the kind of clarity one would expect on the more temperate planets, she deeply enjoyed the subtler warmth of the balmier days beneath Dromund Kaas's skies. Even in wet weather, it never did grow too cold. Sometimes, not at all. Lana disliked the cold, but how she delighted to see the gentle, rainy days.

               In all her life, Lana's master was always mindful about leaving her moments of quiet, inward joy undisturbed. Gedeon had quickly noted her sudden silence, looking over to see her attention drawn away elsewhere. Though he'd always known her to be unfailingly diligent in her work even as a child, she had, too, always been easily swept away by these pleasant distractions. Such things simply never came often enough for her, he knew.

               "You don't see days like these so often in Kaas City, do you?"

               Turning an appreciative smile back to him, she gently shook her head.

               Gedeon then found his own gaze trailing across the cityscape as well, basking in the moment's repose. His eyes then narrowed as he spotted a peculiar thing in the distance. "Now what's that over there?"

               Lana followed where his eyes looked to, searching for what he meant to point out.

               "On the wall there, close to the alleyway," he nodded.

               Once she spotted it, she was surprised she hadn't noticed it sooner. Her expression waned, taking on a grave pall as she stared at the unmistakable graffiti scrawled onto the public wall. "It's becoming more commonplace as of late," she said in a lowered tone.

               "...' _UNITY_ '?" Gedeon read aloud the bold word spelled along the wall. "I know how the authorities frown on things like this," he began with a touch of curious amusement, "but it doesn't exactly seem like a bad message for some hoodlums to scribble onto our walls..."

               As innocent as his remark had been, she knew what the true meaning behind this simple message was. "They aren't hoodlums, Master Gedeon. Self-proclaimed _liberators_. In the name of the Empire," she explained bleakly. There was no lightness or humor in her tone. Peace was the sole thing Lana only dreamed of for their people and their home, but she had always been aware of the potential for dissidence during any period of calm. It had been a phenomenon of a mortal nature that she never quite understood.

               With a solemn look, Gedeon turned to Lana, whose gaze hadn't wavered in the least. "Liberators...in search of _unity_?" he questioned.

               Lana recognized this tone of her master's. He'd shed the loving mirth of the doting father, now speaking to her as the wise and thought-provoking mentor. She lowered her gaze. "It's a movement that has been coming about ever since quelling the Revanite uprising."

               "Surviving Revanites?"

               "No. Revan was defeated. They're all gone. These...' _revolutionaries_ ', as they presume to call themselves, they..." she paused, unsure of how to best describe the things she'd begun to learn of them through her intelligence channels. "Their belief is...that the Empire is in need of reform. It has become too divided. Too shortsighted. Too distracted. And what they seek is...ultimately, some form of peace."

               He pondered on this inwardly. Nothing she had spoken insinuated anything subversive or destructive as far as he could resolve, but her tone had clearly been anything but amiable or receptive. "So wherein lies the threat?"

               "Contrary to what it seems, this...following...is not at all interested in the union of peoples. The message, as it has definitively become, is a call for unity in and for the Empire— _against_ peace with the Republic."

               With an understanding nod, he lowered his gaze as he considered this. "So they're looking to bring us all together by reminding us who the enemy is."

               "If that's their reasoning, then the union would never last. It's self-contradictory—peace built upon violence? That sort of peace falls apart in short time because it's only a facade. No real rapport is being built between former rivals...no new accords between enemies... How quickly do you think they would return to fighting amongst themselves once again?"

               Gedeon took a breath and posed a question for her to consider in turn. "You don't suppose these...'revolutionaries' are looking to change _more_ than just that?"

               Lana paused to contemplate what he was suggesting.

               "It does sound like the same old tune we've all heard again and again. Now, I don't know anything about this lot...but if they're _smart_ —and if I were you, Lana, I wouldn't assume that they aren't—then they must know that something _different_ needs to be done for any real, lasting change." Gedeon's eyes monitored Lana's pensive countenance. "Something to consider." He knew his dear girl well, and he was always questioning and gauging her, making sure she was always _thinking_.

               Lana listened well and made note of his discerning words. She'd always been prudent to never let herself underestimate an individual or a situation to be dealt with—an indispensible skill inherited from Gedeon's very own teachings.

               "They've yet to cause any substantial problems, but a movement like this left unchecked only escalates. We can't possibly let them jeopardize our ongoing negotiations with the Republic." She shook her head in exasperation. "Of _all_ times, they've chosen now to act. When peace has finally become a _possibility_. And they rave on about their dissatisfactions? With _what_? I simply don't understand," she furrowed her brows as she let out her frustrations, deeply impacted by the seemingly incomprehensible lunacy of this movement.

               With a calming breath, she collected herself. "Unity is not exclusive," she said resolutely, turning her eyes back to her master. "You've always taught that."

               He offered her a kind and humble smile, proud of her faithfulness to his teachings. Taking no pleasure in letting her wallow in her frustrations, he instead opted to dismiss this line of talk.

               "Let's not dwell on the...melancholic sophisms of the universe's seemingly _infinite_ political strife, shall we?" he humored, rambling profound nothings to laugh at. "I'm here to enjoy a relaxing day with my darling girl."

               With the gleam of her amusement returning, she bared a modest smile and a nod. "All right."

               "So..." Gedeon hummed, his gaze aloft with some whisper of hidden mischief.

               "Yes, Master Gedeon...?" she sang along with his tune, all too aware of whatever new trailing thought it was, brewing on the tip of his tongue.

               "Who is this ' _old friend_ ' you've been going on about?"

               This sudden, unprompted question brought her to a blinking halt as her addled thoughts tried to discern its origins. She retraced their conversations, thinking perhaps this had been the man's offhanded continuation of some long abandoned tangential thought too many conversations ago.

               "...' _Old friend_ '?" she questioned for clarification, brows furrowed in her thorough confusion.

               "Yes. Whoever you'd been too preoccupied with the other day to answer this senile, half-dead old prune's desperate holocalls."

               She nearly gaped at her own realization. What business did _he_ have asking about some matter from more than three days ago? This old man…

               "Oh. Um, a former colleague, actually," she answered him, her ambiguity quite intentional.

               "Oh? Who might that be?" His questioning bordered quite along the lines of _badgering_. He'd known Lana to seldom keep regular contact with any acquaintances, which he also knew well had been very few.

               She gave a passing, dismissive smile and shook her head. "You don't know him."

               In his natural, _very_ paternal reaction, his attention had pointedly shifted with interest. " _Him_?" he asked. His tone was made to sound innocuous, but there had been a rather less than subtle gleam beneath the polite little grin he bore.

               Lana met her master's glance, looking at him rather quizzically. "Yes... We hadn't seen or spoken to each other in months." She then shifted her gaze to casually elaborate, "I suppose I was feeling...a sudden onset of nostalgia. So I contacted him," she shrugged.

               Gedeon's eyes were fixed on her countenance as she shared this. He pondered on her nonchalance, unsure of whether it was deliberate or if she'd truly been as oblivious as she seemed.

               "' _Nostalgia'_?" he thoughtfully hummed.

               "Oh, please. Don't. Just stop it now, Master Gedeon. _No_."

               For all his utter obviousness, the old man still felt the patronizing need to veil his intentions behind his overwrought sputter of laughter. "What? _What?_ I didn't say a word."

               "Whatever you're thinking— _stop it_."

               "What am I thinking?"

               "I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of having to spell it out." Lana's lips grew taut as she fought back a grin. "You may as well just stop now."

               She could still spy the vestiges of his itching intrigue, his insatiable desire to pry. How he'd steered his wandering eyes everywhere else but toward her own. How he'd tapped the end of his cane against the tip of his shoe to such a steady, mindless rhythm. How even the most microscopic of expressions managed to paint his countenance over like a fully emblazoned billboard worthy of the Coruscanti skylines themselves. For a wise man of such experience, her master seemed every bit as much an utterly transparent old fool.

               And yet, the girl who knew better would still bend under at the sound of her own resigned sigh. _Fine_. A small offering for his restless curiosity, then. If that would quell his rampant imagination.

               "If you _must_ know…"

               She eyed him from the corner of her sights to see him pretend at stoic indifference.

               "This colleague aided me a great deal during the Revanite uprising. After two months, I meant to inquire on how he was faring."

               Master Gedeon simply glanced down at his hands folded over the handle of his cane and nodded. "Ah."

               "Yes. That is all."

               Let that be the end of it. Please.

               And as though Lana's innermost pleas had been granted, her master seemed to grow silent beyond this. Nodding at his own passing inward musings. Smiling to the silence. There'd been things to say written all over his quiet countenance, but he seemed to stay them all. At least for now.

               From their little bench, the entire view of the park's length had been clear enough to even see the cityscape beyond it. It wasn't much to marvel at—a vast line of uniform buildings, some streets carved through the grid work in between. Much of Kaas City's aesthetic beauty lied in its engineered uniformity, no doubt meant to personify the Empire's perceived order and fidelity.

               Considering the most recent happenings, the idea of it all seemed overbearing in its irony more so now than ever in her eyes. How she'd once considered such notions so profane. Unforgivable blasphemy. The very paradigm now marred and whittled away into scattered traces of her disillusionment. Many Sith clung to their near-blind darkness, the absolute, unbending reverence of their world and ways. Lana had always been too sensible to stand among such ranks. But beneath the depths of all her sense and reason lied a great fealty. It'd been for this that she remained so dutiful in her endeavors to dismantle the Revanites. Why she'd gone through such lengths, dragging her own name, her own honor through hell and back. Her fealty had also been why she was ready at any given moment to lay down her very life for those who would march through hell with her. Everything that ever mattered was beyond herself, and she always, _always_ remembered this. Lana had been far too clever, too thoughtful to believe that blind faith was at all synonymous to one's moral being. Or to one's duty, for that matter.

               Too clever. Too thoughtful. Yes, these had been things others had spoken of her many times through the course of her life. Spoken things meant to disparage. To disdain.

               "I never did properly say this, I suppose—"

               _But not Master Gedeon._

               "—How relieved I am that you are safe. How well you are."

               Lana smiled at the old man's sincere regard.

               "How _proud_ I am of what you've managed to accomplish, dearie."

               His eyes grew somber as he turned them back into the distance. A tinge of guilt.

               "Even with all the galaxy turned against you," he breathed.

               Even now, he couldn't understand _why_ —

               " _Why_ didn't you reach out to me when you needed help?"

               Lana's gaze sank.

               "You know I could have helped."

               She shook her head. All the roaming threads of her thoughts converged along their wandering spirals and bends, all coming together into focus. Reminding her soundly _why_ she needn't involve this dear old man in her impossible trials. Even in spite of all the grief and remorse a father could bear for being unable to protect his child, _why_ he had no reason to fear for her then.

               Threads woven like an interlocking tapestry to reveal the images. Her memories. Her being. All their faces coming clear into vision. Lana smiled.

               "I _had_ help, Master Gedeon."

 

* * *

 

               Lana's gait continued in haste as she proceeded through the heavy doors to the center of the hall where her audience awaited. She tried to calm the pace of her heart as she approached. This wasn't good. She knew it.

               "Miss Beniko. How good of you to finally join us."

               The minister's gaze darted across the Dark Council chamber toward the unfamiliar female voice. The woman's greeting wasn't unkind, but it'd been frigid in the disingenuous glow beneath her drawling, honey-accented lilt. This new councilor was seated at the formerly unoccupied chair at the chamber's far right. The chair that had once belonged to Darth Arkous.

               She drew a tense breath through her teeth. A poor first impression already.

               "I sincerely apologize, my Lord," she spoke to the woman.

               This was not the first time Lana had been called to stand before the Dark Council, yet the trepidation never seemed to lessen any with experience. Her eyes quickly acknowledged the rest of the councilors present. "Lords," she respectfully revised herself with haste.

               " _Lady_ —"

               Lana's eyes once again trailed toward the unfamiliar new councilor. She blinked, uncertain of what manner of response was expected of her.

               The woman's modestly painted lips curled into a smile. A frozen kind one would glimpse of the most beautiful, most lifeless statues. "Where I come from, ladies are respectfully referred to as _Ladies_." For all her politeness, there belied a strong assertiveness across her tones, seemingly well practiced in its expression without impressing any manner of aggression or disrespect. "I'd like it if you addressed me as such, Miss Beniko."

               Lana raised her gaze before mindfully acknowledging this. "Of course. My deepest apologies, _Lady_ Rubia."

               Isabeau Rubias, the newly christened Dark Councilor of the Sphere of Military Offense. This was the first time Lana had been in the presence of this woman, whose apparent formidability had been worn with a vastly understated grace. She appeared to be a human woman perhaps a decade her senior, whose natural born beauty looked to be just past its prime. Though she wouldn't have been what most would consider to be youthful, her features alone were striking to behold—eyes vivid red like rubies (one would wonder if that had been the origins of her namesake), and bright golden hair even fairer in its color than Lana's own, styled back into a pristine plait pinned across her crown. Even her choice of dress—a business garb not unlike that worn by entrepreneurs of the Empire's highest order—seemed to also embody the most distinguishing of her traits and manners.

               The perpetual expression highlighted by her countenance appeared to denote a habitual, practiced pleasantry awash by very certain austere undertones. Even her politeness seemed dual-natured, straddling the lines of what could be perceived to be almost patronizing, though neither quite ingratiating nor insincere. It could be gathered that proprieties such as manners and carriage were values that had been well-ingrained in her upbringing. She'd been prim and proper in every aspect of her bearings, a proud, visible trait that spoke volumes of her attention and expectations.

               "If we may, Lady Rubia? Councilors."

               All eyes in the chamber shifted to the steady voice addressing their attention from its opposite end. Hardly a youth, but a man still rather junior in his years to his fellow colleagues.

               "Why don't you begin by sharing with us your findings, Minister?" he prompted, meaning to redirect the focus of this meeting to point.

               Lana looked to the younger councilor in silent gratitude. "Of course, Lord Nox."

               He responded knowingly with a simple nod before briefly catching sight of Darth Rubia's lingering gaze. His quiet dismissal following as he deigned to pay her no further heed did not go unnoticed by his fellow councilor. Though her acceptance of his lead seemed only to mask her own calculating assessments. She settled comfortably back in her chair as she offered her undivided attention to the minister before them.

               "As you all must be well aware, there has been a rise in certain…' _pro-Imperialist_ ' activities promoting the reignition of conflict with the Republic," Lana began.

               "A band of misfits vandalizing alleyways and storefronts, aren't they?" the bemused Darth Vowrawn droned with half-interest. The stately old man sat with his chin lazed against a loosened fist. "What could Sith Intelligence be bothered for with their likes?"

               "Therein lies the concerns raised by such acts of vandalism. It may not seem like much now, but…" Lana paused and drew a breath. She'd known it would have been a challenge to convey the depth of her anxieties over the matter to the Dark Council. "My Lords, recall to mind the scale of the Revanites' rebellion. What had they been but...a rabble of cultists camped beyond the walls of this very city? Perceived to be of no consequence to our populace, of little threat to our governance? Permitted to go unseen amidst their conspiracy. We did not watch them closely enough. This had been a grave error on our part, a responsibility shared even with that of the Republic."

               In a moment's breath, Lana paused to gather her thoughts. To speak succinctly and with precision would be the most effective way to get her point across.

               "I don't think it wise to overlook such disturbances again with yet another sect seeking to divide us. This galaxy...has strived, sacrificed, and lost far too much to endure more of this. This is the first time in decades our arms have been lain to rest. With a true possibility for permanence at last. I fear that to allow this movement any chance at gaining a voice will give validity to their undeserved cause."

               "Aren't we accused already of intolerance for the freedom of voice among the masses?" Another woman's voice. Cutting and harshly accented by the common imperial dialect.

               Lana's eyes flickered to Darth Acina, who seemed to look past her completely to address her peers rather than the minister directly. She'd been seated across the hall opposite of Darth Rubia. "Let them vent their frustrations," she scoffed.  "If their target is of no concern to _us_. If _our_ authority remains intact."

               The Dark Lord of the Sphere of Technology had never been known to consider the communal repercussions belying any issue at hand. So long as she'd been free to dabble in her faceless automatons.

               "Are we not in the business of making peace with our new allies?"

               Finally, a voice of reason.

               Lana peered toward another formerly empty seat among the council.  A fleeting apparition of her father coalesced in her mind's eye, as this very seat had once been his own. She'd known of two other Sith Lords who had inherited it after him. Yet of the few times she'd set foot in this hall, she'd never once seen it occupied in her presence until now.

               Her eyes blinked again, and now the image of a quite different man sat before her. Darth Neronis. He'd been little older than what her faint memory of her father could recall of him. Regal in appearance, cleanly kept, and respectfully garbed in his military dress. A sensible man in appearance as well as in temperament, as far as Lana could glean.

               The next voice to sound had been an all but too familiar one. Ancient, by comparison, to the rest of the council who'd all been his juniors by decades. The churlish and miserly old Sith Lord, Darth Rictus of the Sphere of Mysteries, had always been recognized for his outmoded pedantry, yet he'd still managed an unflinching hold and influence within the Empire. Most notably among the privileged elites of a very particular pedigree.

                "Hah. _Allies_. Who knows how long this will drag on for before the next shot fires. I'd rather it be ours to make when it comes to it," the old Sith derided with a dismissive wave of the hand.

               Lana righted her posture and raised her eyes to him. She refused to bend before his domineering disposition, but dogged old men like him never responded well to anything they'd perceived to be defiant. She maintained every bit of tact and respect she could summon as she addressed the council again as whole.

               "Be that as it may, Dark Lords, I believe this _does_ concern us. The voices perpetuating this movement vie for little more than anarchy, simply masked as patriotism."

               A perceivable threat to their central power—the only thing that might unite their opinions to any consideration for this matter, she thought.

               "I urge the council strongly—we must keep a watchful eye on this. I believe if left unchecked, this group may yet gain further influence. Perhaps without us even realizing. If their sentiments were to gain any impetus, they would come to pose a very serious threat to our peace. We've already set aside our arms, my Lords. I see little sense in reversing what we've already managed to bring about. We do not need to lose more of our numbers. For the first time in recent memory, our people feel what it is to be unafraid. Unless we are to allow the menace of yet another dissenting faction wreak its unwanted violence against this galaxy. Please, don't be so foolish to think this will not in time come down upon our own people. Our home. What would all these exhausting decades have come to, my Lords?"

               Lowering her eyes, she dolefully shook her head as the vestiges of all she'd held dearest surfaced to the forefront from the deepest reaches of her conscience. _No_ , they'd come too far.

               "We can't afford any more of this."

               The minister's voice had been small, but it's resonance had been felt with clarity through the cavernous chamber.

               A silence followed as the members of the council seemed to contemplate the depths of her appeal.

               "Your words are very inspiring, Miss Beniko," Darth Rubia spoke.

               Lana raised her gaze to see some semblance of seeming empathy reflected in the woman's countenance. She slowly clasped her hands, folding them together as she shifted her posture where she sat. She tilted her head as she regarded the minister, squaring her shoulders ever so slightly.

               "I think this council understands your concerns. I do. And just as you say, it is unwise of us to be too complacent in times of peace, isn't it?"

               There'd been something lingering in the undercurrent of her questioning that worried Lana. Rubia's words, as far as she could gather from just this single meeting, were nothing if not calculating.

               "There are always plots and schemes lurking beneath the calm. With our resources limited as is already, I...simply don't see how we can justify hunting phantoms right now. Not while there are far more pressing internal matters that require the attention of our Sith Intelligence."

               The meticulousness of her words were not lost on Darth Marr, it'd seemed.

               "Would you care to elaborate, Darth Rubia?" His sonorous voice did not so much request as it had required. "You appear to have a particular incident in mind."

               "Of course, Lord Marr," she complied with a bow of the head before turning her ruby eyes back to the minister. The look that had appeared so benign only moments ago now seemed razor-sharpened by her focused scrutiny, yet the mismatched frozen tug at her lips hadn't deviated in the least.

               "I find it... _troubling_...that our very own Sith Intelligence has concluded that looking into the activities of a group, who's most noteworthy misdemeanor so far has been being a bit vocal about their disapproval of the Republic, should merit any such attention. We were fighting them little more than three months ago. It seems understandable that there are those who still feel those wounds. Who aren't so eager of the idea of having to forgive and forget all so suddenly. It leaves a bitter taste, if we're going to be honest with ourselves. Misconduct aside, I can understand their sentiments. And I certainly don't believe the matter warrants us to pool all of our resources in order to manage."

               The Dark Lady continued on, silencing Lana mid-breath before she managed to utter a sound in defense of her case. "Now, my _point_ —" she turned a knowing glance to the minister, "I'm sure my fellow councilors have all been made aware of the unfortunate events that have taken place at the Korriban Academy?"

               Rubia's expression grew bemused as she noted the visible confusion on Lana's face at the mention of this. The minister had _no_ idea. And the councilor even seemed almost satisfied by this, as though it'd only served to reinforce her belief of the younger Sith's incompetence.

               "And if not, perhaps Lord Aruk might care to enlighten us, then?" She deferred to the only councilor in the room who'd been in attendance remotely.

               The blue hum of the Sith Lord's holo projection flickered as he silently shifted. His presence seemed to tower even more by his stillness. He'd been a titan of a man, the immovable sentinel of Korriban itself. The Dark Lord of Sith Philosophy seldom left the grounds of the academy, always remaining close to his station overseeing every new body of acolytes inducted into their ranks. A very remote man of few words, he'd been known to have little interest outside of the practices and propagation of new apprentices in their ancient Sith ways.

               Darth Aruk had been the only one of neither human nor purebred Sith lineage present on this council—a Rattataki, a people already known for their formidable demeanor. Only his face had been visible against his heavy robes, completely tattooed in dark contrasting motifs as though to hide the natural color of his complexion.

               The councilor closed his eyes as though in meditation. Even his slightest motions seemed stone-like as Lana regarded the Sith Lord.

               "Two deaths. Three weeks prior—a veteran Sith Master, and a newly appointed overseer," his low voice, heavy with an exotic accent reported.

               The rest of the council appeared taken by this news, exchanging glances as they assessed what they'd heard.

               "Why were we not informed of this, Dark Lord?" Darth Marr questioned.

               "Internal matters. I deemed them unworthy of the Dark Council's attention," he responded with a single nod of the head.

               "Killings of ranking Sith at the Academy is not unheard of. But _two_ in succession?" Darth Mortis spoke aloud for the first time then. Such a matter now began to tread within his realm in the Sphere of Laws and Justice.

               "Those were my thoughts as well," Rubia agreed. She turned to the Rattataki once again. "And we still haven't found those responsible for these murders?"

               "No acolyte has made any claims."

               Lowering her gaze, she appeared thoughtful as she posed the question to the rest of the council. "Doesn't that strike you as suspicious?" The woman took her time directing her eyes across her peers in the hall before settling on the minister standing before them. "Now, Miss Beniko..." There'd been a shift in her tone as she addressed her, "Is there anything you can tell us, then, about a person of interest called the ' _Red Taurus_ '?"

               Nox stirred, eyes narrowing as he discreetly reached for his datapad, swiping and scrolling through its menus with his thoughts in pursuit of the familiarity of this name in question. He fixed his attention between his screen and Darth Rubia, remaining intent on listening to what more she had to say.

               "The Red Taurus..." Lana murmured uncertainly to herself. "The name...sounds familiar, but I don't—"

               "—He's a mercenary. The name's been floating around since the murders three weeks ago," she cut across her words, disinterested by the minister's excuses. "To what end, I'm sure you and your resources are capable of uncovering. _If_ you do your job."

               By this point, there'd been several knowing glances passed among a few of the councilors. Rubia's displeasure seemed almost misplaced even to them, as it'd been made clear that the majority of those within this chamber had also been unaware. Even so, they'd made no effort to intercede, more so interested in what further insights their colleague had to reveal.

               Darth Rubia pursed her lips as she honed her attentions. Though still sedate in her manners, there'd been a sting to how she'd looked and spoken to the minister that could cut through flesh like a razor's edge. She began tapping her fingers rhythmically along the surface of her console as if by habit.

               "Tell me, Miss Beniko—did Darth Marr not appoint you as the head of Sith Intelligence?"

               Though she'd found difficulty in keeping her gaze still, Lana kept her head raised as she addressed the councilor. "Yes. He did, my Lady."

               The Dark Lord's shoulders rose and fell with his breaths beneath his heavy pauldrons at the mention of his name. Behind his mask, he turned his eyes to the junior councilor. Her line of inquiry had been tolerable, even understandable to a degree, though he did not appreciate his name being invoked so peripherally in his own presence.

               "And yet, you were not aware of this incident?"

               "No. I was not."

               The woman meant to amplify her apparent incompetence to the council. Purposely make her appear inept. That much, Lana could plainly see. But for what purpose had been lost on her. And yet, she couldn't help but feel that she had indeed somehow faltered in her responsibilities.

               "Am I wrong to think that it'd be reasonable for the head of intelligence to be more enlightened than most regarding such severe cases?"

               _Yes, the Minister of Sith Intelligence should have known this._

"These were homicides, Miss Beniko. Two of our very own esteemed Sith Lords."

               _Master Gedeon..._ Why had Master Gedeon not mentioned this to her? Surely, he would have known. Darth Rubia was right. This was not a case of any inconsequence. Did he not believe this to have been a matter of pertinence to her ministry? Why had he kept this from her?

               Lana sharply inhaled. What else was there to say?

               "I apologize, Lady Rubia. My Lords. Had...investigators requested the assistance of Sith Intelligence...I would have immediately offered our resources."

               The councilor's lips thinned in her now familiar frozen smile. "Well, consider yourself enlightened now. I don't know about you, but this incident seems more...compelling for a proper investigation than some inconvenient graffiti in some back alleyway, doesn't it?"

               "Yes, you've highlighted the gravity of these crimes quite thoroughly, my Lady," she answered solemnly, intent on appeasing her displeasure by promptly putting a close to her inquiry. With another clearing breath, she regarded the council now as a whole. "You've...identified this Red Taurus as a person of interest involved in these homicides? I shall direct my resources to uncovering this individual at once, my Lords."

               Rubia's crimson gaze remained still and frigid as she offered a curt little nod. Her smile remained unchanged. "I hope you do, Miss Beniko. After all, your success is the Empire's success."

               With these final words, the councilor finally redirected her aquiline sights. As if with a snap of the fingers, all tension in the still chamber seemed dissipated with a gasp of air. Lana, too, regained herself amid the steady rhythm of her own breaths.

               "Now, if there aren't any other pressing issues my fellow councilors would like to bring to the minister's attention..." Rubia addressed the whole of the chamber once again, an unspoken prompt to invite the other Dark Lords to speak, "...perhaps she should be dismissed to resume her duties?"

               There had been no further words to say.

               "Excellent." The Dark Lady smiled again at the minister, like a sardonic coup de grace at the close of this already one-sided forum. "Thank you for your time, Miss Beniko."

               Lana gave but a simple bow to the whole of the Dark Council upon her departure. As she disappeared through the heavy doors, Darth Nox's unnoticed, contemplative gaze briefly followed her receding steps. Having found no pertinent information he'd sought on his datapad, he resolved to perform a more thorough search on his own personal console at the nearest opportunity.

               "Councilors," he addressed the rest of his colleagues as he drifted back from his nomadic thoughts, "I believe there were other matters on our agenda left to discuss. Shall we resume?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, yesss...you guys don't know how excited I was to finally get some progress on this story, lol. Or on anything, really for that matter. x_x Hope everyone's been doing okay with the virus craziness going on. Things just aren't too good, but I thought if anything, the down time cooped up should be made somewhat productive for a bit of writing again! Well, I'm going to try to keep chugging along, haha. I'm gonna do it, damn it!
> 
> Oh, and...yeah, there's a lot of tweaks to Lana's backstory here. All of the plot ideas I'd already played with were made well before Eternal Empire stuff, some even before Shadow of Revan. I don't think I'm going to go back and make any changes according to what they've added over time in the game due to plot reasons. There might be discrepancies with the game lore to note due to this. 
> 
> And a PC actually has an appearance, whaaa...? I actually intend to include various PCs throughout the story in varying degrees of roles and involvement. I'll update some story tags as I go, I think. A second Republic-side one will come into the story a bit later. ;) A lot of them are also going to have a bit of reinvented backstories and stuff too.
> 
> Whoo! I'm excited. I really hope this sticks and I can actually maintain a not-ridiculous wait time between updates...like I keep saying I want to do and end up not doing, haha. Thank you to all the readers who are still interested enough to follow along...! Please feel free to comment and kudo! Any word is much appreciated! Please stay healthy and safe, everyone! ^_^


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